On the red surface of Dulan, in the industrial district.
Pat, newly inducted into the Court and having received his Father's gift to become a "Spectator," stepped out of his drop pod.
He activated his augmented speaker array and called out loudly.
"Brothers, the Dulanians persist in their folly. The Primarch has declared them guilty."
"Our duty is to recover usable assets before the Wolves turn everything to ruin. Technical data, industrial facilities, everything will be taken as spoils for the Legion."
"By order of the Monarch, act!"
The "Spectator" entered a state of detached observation, watching the Honor Guard members he had inspired, even the typically calm Techmarines.
Pat strode forward, leading them into the industrial district.
He switched the speaker system's language to the Phallian language, which the Librarians had cracked.
"Dulanians, lay down your weapons. You will be spared..."
Pat's booming voice, amplified by the vox-device, echoed through the factory.
"Die!" A red-robed overseer roared, raising a heavy double-barreled weapon.
With a sharp crack, blood mist exploded. Pat's voice was cold.
"Final warning. Lay down your weapons!"
The workers clutched their weapons fearfully, staring at the black-armored warriors before them.
Unlike the grey-clad butchers and the wolf-like beasts in the images, these black-armored warriors, though terrifying, offered them a chance to live.
CLANG!
The first worker dropped his iron pipe. Then came a cascade of clattering sounds.
CRASH!
A thunderous blast. Pat turned.
The factory wall suddenly split open, then collapsed.
From the dust emerged a massive machine, larger than a Leviathan Dreadnought.
It bore no paint. Its shoulder-mounted missile racks were empty.
Several cables were crudely attached, clearly rushed from the production line.
It raised its disruptor cannon, its short, flat barrel aimed. With a screaming roar, shells slammed into the storm shields.
CRACK, CRACK, CRACK!
The storm shields exploded. Disruptor shells struck the Honor Guard member holding the shield, tearing his power armor to shreds.
The exposed Guard member was fortunately unscathed.
"Attack! Kill it before it reloads!"
Pat roared, charging the massive machine.
The Honor Guard members felt strength surge through them. They followed Pat's charge.
Pat's thunder hammer met the spinning siege drill. He was thrown back.
An Honor Guard member, with a running leap, soared into the air.
A "Warrior" from the Eighth Chapter brought his psychic sword down on the shield.
Pat leaped, swinging his thunder hammer at the viewport on the machine's chest.
The shrieking force field tore the Skarbyn soldier inside to shreds.
At the same moment Pat slew the Leviathan, the 13th Great Company scaled the walls of the Crimson Fortress.
"Wolf Lord," Ulbrandr fired a bolt as he spoke to Jorin. "They're still in Dulanian hands. They're still broadcasting the images."
"They are being seen..." The Wolf Priest's voice was thick with humiliation. "...including by Shadows of Order."
Jorin swung his axe, cleaving a Skarbyn soldier in two. "Can you track their life signs?"
"Only one. The signal is very stable, but very weak," the Wolf Priest replied.
"I promised to bring them back."
An hour later, Russ, having returned to the battlefield, drew Kraken's Bane and charged a gleaming Leviathan that had burst through a wall.
Its outer armor wasn't solid, but segmented plates embedded on the surface.
The rocket launchers on its shoulders rotated with a creak. Missiles trailing light slammed into the Wolves.
With thunderous explosions, a Wolf position was engulfed in a crimson sea.
Six warriors charged it. Their weapons, brimming with destructive energy, hacked at the machine's arms.
The Leviathan lifted an arm, swatting a dark grey Wolf to the ground.
Its disruptor cannon fired, blasting them to fragments.
Russ roared in fury, slamming into the Leviathan.
The heavy siege drill grazed his grey armor. Kraken's Bane screamed, tearing through the viewport on the machine's chest, shredding the Skarbyn soldier inside.
Russ kicked the Leviathan aside and looked for new prey.
His comm buzzed. He answered, irritated.
"Wolf King, Jorin... his Great Company has broken formation."
Russ's hand trembled. Images of mutated Wolves instantly linked with Jorin's strange behavior.
His gaze pierced the smoke, searching for the Crimson Fortress.
A second later, Russ resolutely turned, abandoning his prey, and ran towards Jorin's location rune.
Moments later, Nareth's comm bead buzzed. Arsena's voice sounded.
"My Lord, the Wolves have breached the fortress's shields, but have abandoned their assault on the Crimson Fortress. They are heading towards the Cathedral District."
"I understand." Nareth ended the call. 'Russ, you've made the same choice again?'
"My Lord," Sanchez approached Nareth, frowning. "If we stop attacking the Crimson Fortress, the Dulanians will have time to restore their shields."
"Attack," Nareth ordered. "The Emperor sent us here, not to stand idle."
Land Speeders roared to life. Catachan wolves and Thunderwolves howled in unison.
The Seventh Chapter, following the Primarch and the Reaper Lord, scaled the crimson walls.
Nareth vaulted over the walls, charging the hundreds of gleaming Leviathans.
Light and shadow flickered in his eyes. The power of the Warp surged.
Nareth awakened the memory of his own fear of erasure, activating "Fearsight."
His form vanished. In an instant, blue-white light exploded through the viewport of one Leviathan.
The next instant, he was before another, a hundred sixty meters away.
In one second, the viewports of over a hundred Leviathans scattered across the Crimson Fortress were simultaneously pierced. The massive metal forms toppled almost in unison.
Nareth reappeared, surveying his spoils.
He compared the experience with the memories extracted from Slau Dha's mind.
Aeldari Autarchs, equipped with micro warp-jump devices, would jump into the Warp.
They were briefly unprotected, exposed to the realm of She Who Thirsts.
The Warp Spiders were the bravest of the Aspect Warriors. In their attacks, they risked both life and soul.
'"Fearsight" is awakened in only a rare few psykers like Zahariel, enabling explosive bursts of speed for short periods.'
'Few Aeldari walk the Warp Spider path, but their total number is countless times greater than the number of humans who have awakened "Fearsight." Yet they have no protection and lack explosive attack speed.'
'Hmm... Perhaps the two can be combined. Have some Shadows of Order master this attack method without being unprotected in the Warp.'
As Nareth pondered, Sanchez scaled the highest point of the Crimson Fortress: the throne room.
The "Schemer," wreathed in flocks of fire-crows, sent them flying under his psychic control. They weaved past bulky Skarbyn soldiers, detonating behind their spines.
Sanchez entered the opulently furnished throne room. Beneath a thirty-meter-high coiled dragon mosaic symbolizing the Dulanian, the figure on the pitch-black throne, his body worn by time, was suspended in a gelatinous life-support apparatus.
His sunken, dark eyes turned. "You are the Monarch of Vostonia."
Sanchez shook his head. "I am my Lord's Reaper Lord."
A flicker of disappointment crossed his parchment-like, translucent skin. "Please. He should end it."
His voice was soft and indifferent, like reeds rustling in the wind.
"I assure you, there are no weapons here that could harm you."
"I believe you," Sanchez climbed the steps to the throne. "I am my Lord's harvesting blade."
He raised the sword forged from the Kraken's fang and struck the scarlet robe.
The chainsword roared. The Tyrant of Dulan was torn to shreds.
At the same moment, beneath the cathedral's vaulted ceiling.
Russ rose from the body of his son and walked to Jorin.
"Old friend. Why didn't you tell me?"
Jorin lowered his head, his lips moving. "I was waiting."
"Waiting for what?"
"Cure. The truth."
"It's something we will never have." Russ looked haggard and forlorn.
Russ stepped closer. Only an arm's length remained between them.
"I know what's in the Canis Helix. I visited the workshop where it was made. I know what ancient biological materials were mixed into it."
"Malcador warned me, but I didn't listen to the Sigillite."
"I also know what happens to those who cannot return from the wilds. Many times..."
Russ said painfully, "I left the Fang alone to end their suffering."
"I used to hope, perhaps the curse would not infect the Legion."
Grief hung between them. The cathedral's vaulted ceiling seemed to press down on the Wolves.
The comm's buzz broke the silence. "Wolf King. The Tyrant of Dulan is dead."
Russ's body erupted with a roar like flames. Hissing breath slapped Jorin's face.
He gripped his chainsword and strode out.
The grey Stormbird roared towards the Crimson Fortress. Before it landed, Russ pulled open the hatch.
Among the many black-armored warriors, he immediately found the figure with golden wings.
Russ leaped.
BOOM!
The Primarch plummeted like a meteor, crushing a crimson bunker.
Leman Russ, his fury barely contained, gripped the chainsword, the height of a man, carved with runes of destruction.
The totems hanging from his armor, bones, strung teeth, and charms, clinked.
"Nareth," Russ growled, his voice low in his throat. "I told you. That was the Wolves' prey."
"Do you think you can mock the Wolves of Fenris with impunity?"
"For us, even facing death, a sworn oath must be kept."
"You were too slow." Nareth's voice was calm.
Pat, returning from reporting on the industrial district, walked forward with the Honor Guard.
Nareth watched Pat, who stood before him without flinching, and nodded approvingly.
"You always see us as barbarians," Russ spat. "When I call you brother..."
Nareth coldly cut him off. "I once thought you merely a noisy wolf."
"From the moment you plotted against me, you should have considered the consequences."
The Wolves gathering at the fortress exchanged puzzled looks. Only Jorin knew what Nareth meant.
Russ's fury subsided briefly. He stared at the expressionless Nareth. His rage erupted again.
"Wolf!"
"You will learn its true meaning."
Nareth's wings spread, carrying him past Pat and the others.
The Sword of Vaul flashed, meeting Russ's blade, driven by his rage-fueled, savage momentum.
A thought crossed Nareth's mind.
'Of Hannibal and me, at least one was meant to be killed by him. Perhaps both.'
'Now, it is a moment to prove I control my own fate.'
'Russ, let me measure your strength.'
Sparks exploded. The clash echoed through the Crimson Fortress.
Blue-white light overwhelmed the ice-blue blade.
Nareth stood unmoved. Russ was hurled backward.
Russ's eyes widened in fury. Nareth's strength far surpassed his own.
He advanced cautiously. Freki and Geri flanked him.
Like a hunting pack, they raised their left paws in unison, stalking their prey.
John's fur bristled. He raised a paw.
Before he could act, both wolves' eyes went blank. Their raised heads slammed to the ground.
John lowered his paw, looking at the black wolf who had raised his head.
Familiar with Freddy, he saw the disdain in his eyes.
Seeing his wolf brothers fall, Russ's throat emitted a bestial snarl.
He lunged, swinging Kraken's Bane at Nareth.
Blades flashed, sometimes clashing, sometimes separating.
The Space Wolves roared, their howls echoing to the heavens, cheering their Wolf King.
The waves of sound, nearly deafening, crashed like a tidal wave.
The two figures, blurred by speed beyond Astartes' perception, each clash landing with perfect precision, their destructive force sufficient to unleash an apocalyptic-level catastrophe.
The Shadows of Order watched the battle calmly. But when their Father sent the Wolf King flying and his form became clear, their emotions stirred.
Pat was the first to speak. The Shadows of Order began to sing in rhythmic, resonant voices.
As several "Bards" joined, all the Shadows of Order fell into a collective resonance.
Even Sanchez, walking down, found himself merging into it.
The Wolves watched the Russ Wolf Helm with fury and fear. Their voices involuntarily lowered.
Only Jorin, gripping his axe, watched the cloak of Black Mane and the Kraken's Fang.
The song drowned out the roars.
Nareth also overpowered Russ. Each of his strikes was heavy enough to split mountains.
Fast and precise, his blade forced Russ back step by step.
Russ's feints and deceptions, his fierce, decisive cuts, were overwhelmed by the swift, fierce blue-white blade in the exchanges.
Each blow he faced was faster and more dangerous than the last.
Russ was astonished to find Nareth's strength, speed, and skill all surpassing his own, without any sorcery.
With a crash, Russ's powerful body slammed into the fortress wall.
With no room to retreat, Russ lunged forward, gripping Kraken's Bane two-handed for a sweeping strike.
Nareth's right hand rose. Blue-white light flashed. At the last moment, his blade angled upward.
With precision, at the moment Russ's swing left him exposed, he struck the weakness with an Otsberg-Vaya 33rd pattern.
With a crackling burst, Kraken's Bane flew from his hands.
Nareth's wings beat once. He caught the screaming chainsword.
"You lose. It's my prize."
The Wolves' howls ceased abruptly, as if their throats had been cut.
The Shadows of Order's song erupted into thunderous cheers, echoing through the Crimson Fortress.
Russ watched Nareth descend slowly and charged.
He threw himself, body as a weapon, at Nareth.
Like a roaring wolf pouncing on prey, he had caught countless beasts in the snow, never failing.
Nareth's transhuman perception sensed the sudden attack the moment Russ leaped. His wings beat, carrying him backward. He sheathed the Sword of Vaul and hung Kraken's Bane at his waist.
The "Baron of Corruption's" muscles bulged. His back twisted.
His fists flew, each blow like a missile.
With a thunderous crack, Nareth's right fist struck Russ's left arm, numbing both.
His power gauntlet, its energy field inactive, slammed into Russ's right arm, driving him, grey armor and all, into the crimson wall.
Blow after blow, like a storm, hammered Russ.
CRASH!
The ground shook. The wall collapsed.
Grey armor shattered. Russ was hurled backward, crashing heavily to the ground.
"Russ!" Jorin's panicked cry, forgetting even to address his brother, rushed to him.
The "Spectator" watched the panicked Wolves. He keenly observed they instinctively gave a wide berth to the standing black-armored, golden-winged figure.
Nareth lowered his fists, thinking silently.
'Hmm... Could Russ kill me? No.'
.....
If you enjoy the story, my p@treon is 30 chapters ahead.
[email protected]/DaoistJinzu